


If You Die the Little Death

by tryslora



Series: Mating Games Round 2 [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Community: mating_games, First Time, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1670738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a potential magical trap... and Stiles trips it. Whoops. (Lucky for Derek, it's all on video...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Die the Little Death

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the third bonus challenge at mating games. We were challenged to take our inspiration from [the out of context d & d tumblr](http://outofcontextdnd.tumblr.com) for our stories. I chose four posts for mine:
> 
> [You’re a wizard. Why not do the teleport of shame instead?](http://outofcontextdnd.tumblr.com/post/82435574880/youre-a-wizard-why-not-do-the-teleport-of-shame)
> 
> [If you die, record it.](http://outofcontextdnd.tumblr.com/post/82163871696/if-you-die-record-it)
> 
> [Can I lick it? I’m gonna lick it.](http://outofcontextdnd.tumblr.com/post/81830399457/can-i-lick-it-im-gonna-lick-it)
> 
> [Just wank on it. It might activate something.](http://outofcontextdnd.tumblr.com/post/79798146892/just-wank-on-it-it-might-activate-something)
> 
>  
> 
> And I came up with this...
> 
> As always, I do not own the world or character of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them. Also, this is absolutely unedited/unbetaed so there are probably errors (I finished typing it five minutes ago). I will try to do a quick edit and update sometime soon.
> 
> ETA: 5/22 edited and updated this morning for some clarity. Posting things at 11pm is not my best idea. :)

“Dude, if you die, record it.”

Stiles looks up at the camera that’s fixed to a headband on his head and turns it to face himself. “Isaac, _shut up_. I am _not_ going to die for your entertainment.”

He can’t see Isaac, but he can imagine the lazy shrug. The voice in his ear is slightly tinny, as if Isaac has moved away from the microphone. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“No one’s dying.” Scott’s voice is firm. “Stiles, what do you see?”

Stiles twists the camera back around, thin light shining from the top to cast the underground space into light and shadows. “Not much, buddy. Whatever this place used to be, I think it’s pretty much abandoned now. There’s no sign that anyone’s been living here recently.”

“Any sign of magical residue?”

Of _course_ Derek is the one to stay on track. Stiles sighs. “Give me five minutes to set up a circle, okay? I wish one of you could have come down here with me. Just in case.”

“You’ve got this,” Scott says quietly. “Deaton wouldn’t have suggested it if he didn’t think you were ready—”

“Scott, just _think_ how many crazy ideas Deaton’s had over the years that we’ve gone along with,” Stiles says dryly. “Does anyone else remember _dying_ or is that just me?”

“I do,” Isaac volunteers.

“You didn’t die. Not completely,” Stiles points out.

“Well, you guys got better, too,” Isaac counters. “I mean, the thing is… Deaton’s always been _right_.”

“When he’s bothered to say anything at all.”

“If anything goes wrong, we’ll come get you.” Derek’s voice is low and solid, calm compared to the others. Even and on track. Stiles takes comfort in it. “I don’t care if it does disrupt something, we’ll get you out of there, Stiles.”

“Thanks, dude.” Stiles draws in a slow breath, lets it out over several seconds before he sinks to sit cross-legged on the floor. He knows Derek has his back. He knows _Scott_ has his back. Hell, he’s even pretty sure Isaac has his back, if only because Derek and Scott would rip him apart if he didn’t. But at the same time, none of them are _here_ and he’s feeling a little claustrophobic underground.

Worse still, he may not have officially _looked_ for magical residue yet, but he can _feel_ it. There is something here, pricking under his skin, making the hair on his arms stand on end, and it’s driving him insane. It’s like someone standing behind him, fingertips dancing over his skin, not quite touching and setting him alight.

It’s unnerving and arousing all at once, and he has to shift and adjust himself before he can manage to sit comfortably.

He should probably say something, but hey, if he does this right, things are going to light up bright enough for the camera to see, and that will be _way_ more impressive. So why not just wait?

Stiles reaches into the messenger bag on his hip, sifting through baggies by feel before he draws one out. He spills dark ash on the ground, spreading it around himself in a rough circle. Once that’s done, he holds his hand over the ash and whispers, “ _Protect me._ ” Deaton keeps harping on him to use Latin, but Stiles knows that intent is all that’s required and seriously, he’s got enough coursework without adding _Latin_ to his list. It’s not like he’s Lydia and she’s more than happy to handle all the translation duties required during pack research. Stiles will whisper his words in plain English, thanks.

He feels the moment that the shield snaps into place, shimmering around him. It doesn’t change how his skin feels, that slick feeling of magic caressing him, but it keeps it from getting worse and Stiles suspects that’s the best he can ask for right now.

“Well?” Scott asks.

“Give me a minute.” Stiles fishes around in the bag for another pair of baggies and slowly spills the contents into a pile in front of him. He mixes them together, then gathers the blend into his hands. He lifts his cradled hands and throws them upward, spreading dust everywhere and yelling, “ _Reveal!_ ”

Dust shimmers into the air, sparkling so brightly that for a moment he can’t see.

_Fuck_ , that’s a lot of magic.

Stiles blinks and coughs, and falls forward, hands on the line of dust in front of him. He feels the shields fall, but he can’t stop _coughing_. He hadn’t planned on _inhaling_ the dust. Dying is _so_ not in the plan today. Not at all.

He finally manages to get his spasming lungs under control to the point where he can blink tears from his eyes and hear worried voices asking if he’s okay. “Fine,” he manages to croak. “Don’t breathe magical dust. It doesn’t help. Lungs are not made to handle it.”

“Sarcasm,” Derek says. “He’s fine.”

Stiles holds one thumb up, then remembers they can’t see him so he drops it. “Let’s get a good look at this room. Anything magical will be lit up.” He stands and turns slowly, letting the light from his headlamp illuminate the entire space in slow inches. He doesn’t spot the magic until the light falls on it and it reflects in a bright flash. His brow furrows. “Derek, what are you doing here?”

“I’m not, Stiles. I’m still here, at Scott’s.”

Stiles blinks because _no_ , Derek is _right there_ and walking toward him in a shimmer of light. “Hate to tell you, dude, you’re _here_. And um… you are completely naked and very happy to see me.”

There is silence in response, and Stiles huffs a sigh. “Okay, so tell me what _you_ see?” That’s what the camera’s _for_ , after all, so they can have eyes on the situation.

“Stiles…”

Scott’s voice fades without actual _saying_ anything.

Fine. Be that way.

He moves quickly, pushing into Derek, shoving him back against the wall. He inhales, not sure what he smells. Is this what it’s like being a wolf? It’s like he smells _everything_. Like there is something about Derek that’s just pure musk, pure want and need. It slips under Stiles’s skin and makes him itch all over again, his dick rising to the challenge. “You’re naked,” he murmurs. “Does that mean you want something? It really _looks_ like you want something.”

There’s a choked sound in his ear, but Stiles ignores it. He ignores the chatter, the sound of _urgency_ and for a moment he considers taking the ear bud out completely. Then he inhales a fresh wave of musk and he forgets all about the ear bud and the camera. All he can think about is Derek.

“Not very talkative tonight, are you?” Stiles lets his hand glide down Derek’s chest until he reaches his hard length. He wraps his fingers around him, pulling gently, stroking along him from root to tip. “You are hard as a fucking rock, though. And holy crap, your chest. It’s just…” He touches his pecs carefully. “When they define hardbody in the dictionary, there’s probably a picture of you. I just want…” 

Stiles leans in, tongue out. One taste. Just _one taste_. What could it hurt? Derek is lickably _perfect_. There’s a choked noise as Stiles touches tongue to skin, drawing it across his pec, circling his nipple.

_I don’t know whether to lick it, or kill it_.

Stiles draws back, eyes wide. “Oh fuck, I forgot. _I forgot_. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, and here I am with your dick in my hand and I’m _licking_ you, and she… _shit_ … I’m sorry. Let me… make it up to you.”

“Stiles…”

He drops his gaze when Derek speaks, watching the way his hand draws along his dick. “Do you want this? I mean, your body says you want it, but _you_ haven’t said you want it. So tell me, Derek. Do you want it?”

Silence.

Stiles slides to his knees while looking up, trying to take in Derek’s expression. “Well? I promise, I don’t want to kill you in any way other than _la petit mort_.”

Silence again, and Stiles drops his gaze.

Derek’s voice is choked and soft. “I want it, Stiles.”

Everything eases in his body, breath rushing out. “Oh fuck, good. Yes.” Stiles licks again, catching just the tip of Derek’s cock. There’s no groan, no movement, just the twitch of his dick, and Stiles leans in to kiss him again. “You’re warm,” he whispers, humming slightly along his length. “Just stay still. Let me take care of this for you.”

“Stiles…”

“Mm?”

“I want you to… I want you to come on me.”

Stiles looks up, startled. “Seriously, Derek? Is this some kind of scent marking kink?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, bending back to lick his dick again. But _yeah_ , that sounds kind of brilliant. Amazing. Fucking fantastic.

“This is one for the spank bank.” He talks out loud before he means to, but when Derek doesn’t tell him to shut up, he keeps going, talking, licking, swallowing… everything all at once. “Never thought I’d get you like this. Think about it all the fucking time, Derek. But you’re _you_ and I’m _me_. This isn’t… I didn’t think…”

“I’ve… wanted you for a long time.”

Stiles can hear the way Derek’s voice falters, the want embedded in it, and it twists inside of him as his body answers. “Oh _fuck_ , you should’ve said something, big guy. If we could’ve been doing this before? We’ve been wasting all this time.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

Can’t talk and suck at the same time; Derek has a point. Stiles manages to get his jeans open and down, pulling his own dick out to fist it roughly. It’s not going to take much and he wants to get Derek off first, so he tries to focus on that. He tongues along the hard length, teasing behind it, tasting the sweat off his balls, then he takes him in, letting Derek hit the back of his throat.

It’s his first blow job, and Stiles gives it everything he’s got. He’s not sure he’s great with technique, but he definitely has enthusiasm.

The thing is, it’s not working.

Derek’s _hard_ , and he can hear the low groans and moans that mean Derek _must_ be enjoying it. But he’s not getting off.

“Come on me,” Derek whispers. “Just come on… get up.”

Oh _fuck_ , that image. Stiles grips the base of his dick so he doesn’t just orgasm at the words alone and scrambles to his feet. He leans in, licking across Derek’s chest as he jerks their dicks together and it only takes two strokes before they are both coming, sticky and wet all over Stiles’s hand. There’s a low groan in his ear that reverberates through Stiles, shivering around him as he comes down from the orgasm and slowly slides to sit on the ground.

He blinks, and when he opens his eyes, Derek is _gone_.

“…the _fuck_ , dude? Where’d you go?” Stiles looks around but all he sees is the smudged protective circle behind him, and what looks remarkably like a stone dick sticking out of the wall. “Derek? Big guy?”

“Never there.” The voice in his ear is low and sober, tight and raw. “It was a hallucination.”

Stiles closes his eyes. “Did I just make an idiot of myself trying to jack off a stone?”

“Something like that.” Derek goes silent and Stiles has no idea what to say next. What do you say to a guy you just jacked off to? …thanks? He sighs.

“I’m sorry.”

“Scott and Isaac will be there soon. You broke the enchantment.” He hears a slight cough. “But whatever the magic users wanted—we have to assume it involved sex, and they probably got it. At least you didn’t fuck yourself on it. Deaton says penetrative sex would have brought the spell to a completely different level. But your orgasm ended the spell.”

“We are never going to talk about this again.” Stiles doesn’t want to look at the wall, or the stain, or the fact that his limp dick is sticky and he just… _fuck_. “Everything’s going to be awkward now.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Derek, I just hallucinated going down on you,” Stiles tells him. “I imagined that you told me to come all over you. I _got off_ to you _begging_ me to cover you in come.”

“That part wasn’t a hallucination.” There’s a muffled sound, and Stiles hears a door close in the background before Derek speaks again. “And it wasn’t a lie. Deaton thinks that when the spell activated, it brought out your deepest desire. So I stayed here to talk you through it.”

“And the part where you said you wanted me too?” Stiles isn’t sure he wants to know the answer, but he has to ask anyway.

“Truth.”

_Truth_.

Stiles swallows hard. “Oh.” He shifts, tucking himself away and doing up his jeans. “Does that mean we’re going to talk about this sometime when we’re face to face?”

“And preferably alone.”

“I’m sorry I licked you—hallucination you.” Stiles makes a face. “I licked a wall, thinking it was you.”

There’s a low rumble of laughter. “You might like the real thing better.”

“You wouldn’t mind me licking you?”

“You’re not Kate. I know that.”

Stiles inhales roughly, because those few words show him _trust_. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I’m not. So we can do this?”

He imagines Derek nodding in the small spot of silence. “We can do this.”

“Stiles!” Isaac’s voice rings out, echoing towards him. “We still can’t get in! The place is warded against wolves! You need to come out!”

Stiles sighs. “And now it’s time to go do my walk of shame. Please tell me that entire escapade was only streamed and not actually recorded?”

“It was recorded.”

“Great.” Stiles makes a face. “If only druidic magic were like Harry Potter, then I could do the apparition of shame and bypass Scott and Isaac. Who are going to give me so much shit.”

“Just _go_ , Stiles,” Derek orders. “The sooner you get back, the sooner we can get that time alone, and we can see what you think of the real thing.” There’s a small smile in his words, and Stiles likes the sound of that.

“Got it, going.” Stiles grabs his messenger bag, throwing it over his shoulder. “Radio silence now.” He flicks off the phone and flips the switch on the camera, tossing them both into his bag. Some things don’t need to be recorded for posterity.

Although maybe later he’ll take the camera out, because recording _Derek_ —the real thing—for later viewing might be nice. Definitely better than orgasming on a rock.

Holy _shit_ this is real.

Stiles really wishes teleportation were a thing, because he wants to be back with Derek _right now_. Since it’s not? This better be the quickest walk of shame ever. He has somewhere to be five minutes ago, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Please come visit me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)!


End file.
